


The Beginning

by kazoobard



Series: The Brad x Rory Mythic Quest Universe [6]
Category: Mythic Quest: Raven's Banquet (TV)
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, Meeting, i wrote an outfit for rory that i just wanna see glover in/he half wore, idiots being closed off and horny, prequel shit, shameless self indulgence, uhh let me know what you think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27836692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazoobard/pseuds/kazoobard
Summary: Brad and Rory, before Mythic Quest, before Cold Alliance.
Relationships: Brad Bakshi/Original Male Character
Series: The Brad x Rory Mythic Quest Universe [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964773
Comments: 13
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rory's faceclaim is Donald Glover :)

-2013-

The DMV isn’t even fun.

Brad has been staring into space for the last forty minutes, slowly inching forward in line. He should never move again, if change-of-address means this every time. Maybe he’ll just start crashing at his hookups’ places every night.

“—No, I’m not going to fucking traffic school, I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Brad turns to see a man talking animatedly to a DMV employee. He hums softly, and with no inner debate, ducks out of line.

He moves swiftly over to the DMV counter, leaning against it and immediately regretting it— it’s sticky. He doesn’t move, doesn’t let the disgust show on his face. He fixes the DMV employee with a cool look. “Hi. You’re not going to send him to traffic school.”

The man scoffs at Brad. “Who the hell are you?”

“Oh,” Brad says, turning to him, as if seeing him for the first time. “A friend.”

The man’s eyes narrow, and his eyes flit down. Back up again. He’s noticing Brad. Even better, he’s trying not to notice him. “Thanks,” he snaps. “I don’t need a friend. I’m handling this.”

“If you were handling this, I wouldn’t be helping you.”

“You’re not helping, and you’re not here to.” The man’s eyes are dark and attentive.

Brad grins. “Tell me what I am here to do.”

“From the looks of it, find vulnerable men to manipulate your way inside of.”

Oh, he’s forward. “Are you vulnerable?”

“No. And you’re not very smooth. Your sleeve is in some soda.”

Brad flushes, tries to cover it. “And here I thought I was doing well.”

The man shrugs, twists his face to hide his growing smile. His facial hair would give Brad beard-burn. He wants it so bad.

“What’s your name?”

The man squints suspiciously, but relents. “Rory.”

“Brad.”

He snorts, not hiding his smile anymore. He’s laughing at Brad, but weirdly, he doesn’t mind. He’d like Rory to laugh at him some more.

“Can I get your number?” Brad asks, feigning a bit of shyness, using his diverted eyes to glance fully at Rory’s body, and— wow.

“You think I’m going to give my number to a man cruising for hookups at the DMV?”

“…Yes.”

Rory scoffs again, grinning. “Alright, fine. But don’t go buying me dinner first.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Brad says honestly.

“Sirs…”

Brad and Rory whip around, the forgotten DMV employee once again capturing their attention.

“Sirs, there’s a line.”

———

Brad groans, slowly coming back to life. He stretches beneath the sheets, his foot kicking against a warm mass. Oh, yeah. Rory is still here.

Brad rubs the sleep from his eyes, turning over to look at his guest. He’s fast asleep, long eyelashes brushing delicately against his face. He shifts a little, a soft snore escaping him. Brad swallows. He feels weird, suddenly, looking at him.

But a moment later Rory is stretching, and his eyes are opening slowly, and each new movement is something for Brad to latch onto.

“Hey,” Rory says, mouth sliding into a sleepy grin. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine.” Brad has forgotten how to be normal. Rory is right there, his muscles moving as he stretches, his dark skin a contrast against the white sheets. He hasn’t left. He’s smiling at Brad, like he’s glad to see him. “Uh, how— how’d you sleep?”

“You talk in your sleep,” Rory says, blinking up at the ceiling. “I didn’t know what you were saying, though.”

“Oh.” Brad is trying not to look at Rory’s chest. He is failing to not look at Rory’s chest. “Do you— do you want breakfast?”

What the fuck? Did he just invite Rory to stay?

“Yeah, I do,” Rory replies, burrowing his face back into the pillow. His voice comes out muffled. “Pancakes and turkey bacon, if you have it.”

Brad nods, stands. His legs feel wobbly, but he pulls on some underwear and a shirt, not checking that they’re his.

He cooks quietly, keeping his mind carefully blank. There’s something unpleasant deep inside him, something begging him to curl up and pretend the outside world doesn’t exist.

The feeling rears its head again as Rory wanders into the kitchen, a little more alert, still smiling. “Hi,” he says, sliding cross-legged into a chair. “Smells good.”

Brad’s eyes slide over Rory’s bare chest, independent of his brain’s instructions. He turns back to the counter, flipping the last pancake onto a plate. He moves toward Rory, wordlessly sliding the plate to him. Rory grins and grabs a pancake, rolling it into a tube before taking a bite.

Brad sinks into a chair and watches him eat. Rory seems to forget Brad is there, fully invested in his breakfast. He hums a little to himself, rocking side to side. Brad takes a shaky breath and stands. He keeps his head down as he turns back to the sink, carefully scrubbing the pancake batter from its bowl.

He doesn’t know what’s happening. He should have kicked Rory out by now, should have forgotten about him. But he’s still here. He’s eating plain pancakes with his hands. He’s making Brad feel things in places other than his dick.

“Hey,” Rory says, a hand brushing against Brad’s side. He jumps, and Rory backs off. Brad wishes he wouldn’t.

“Uh… hi.” He goes back to scrubbing the bowl, now filled with nothing but suds, the batter long gone down the drain. Rory reaches around Brad to put his plate in the sink, and Brad leans into the touch. Rory takes the hint, hands back again, sliding down to rest on Brad’s hips.

Brad shudders and whines, low and wanting, as Rory begins to kiss up his neck. He feels lips curve up into a smile against his skin, and rests his hands atop Rory’s.

Teeth drag against his collarbone.

Tongue swirls patterns on his neck.

Lips brush soft against his jaw.

“What do you want, baby?”

Brad breathes out shakily, slowly shaking his head. “Stop…”

Rory immediately backs off, hands sliding out from beneath Brad’s. He smiles, eyes sparkling. “I’m gonna go. Call me.”

“I don’t think so.”

Rory smiles a little. “Alright.”

And he’s gone.

And Brad is left alone with his thoughts.

He almost wishes he’d said yes, just to keep him near for a little longer.

———

Rory looks really good.

He’s sitting, once again, cross-legged at Brad’s kitchen table. He wears a cardigan with no shirt, buttoned up as far as it will go. The buttons only reach about midway up the sweater, so it exposes his collarbones, the soft hair on his chest. It’s.. distracting. So distracting that Brad barely registered his black skirt, the matching boots. The skirt is nice, an expensive-looking fabric that swished against his knees when he walked in. The boots are held together with duct tape.

All together, Brad feels overdressed. He sits stiffly, overly aware of the smooth creases of his shirt, the sleeves rolled to the exact same length. He feels entirely caught off guard. Rory seems to have a talent for that.

Brad had spent several days storming around, pissed off and confused, before caving in and calling. He had a speech prepared, but Rory had barely spoken. “Spaghetti,” he said confidently, “and red wine. Tomorrow night.” Then the dial tone.

And now he’s here, blue sleeves flapping around as he talks, entirely too excited for the weight that Brad feels inside. Brad wants to listen, he wants to pay attention, but Rory’s smile is wide, his eyes are dark, his outfit is seemingly manufactured to drive Brad crazy.

“Hey,” Rory says, reaching across the table to touch Brad’s wrist. “What’s wrong with you? You went all catatonic on me, and I was being hilarious.” He digs his fork into his pasta, swirling it.

Brad nods, forcing a smirk. “Oh, I’m sure that you were.”

“What were you saying in your sleep the other night?”

Brad raises an eyebrow. “Are you familiar with sleep?”

“Fuck off. It sounded… I dunno, it wasn’t English.”

“Oh, it wasn’t?”

Rory rolls his eyes. “Fucking christ, Bakshi, talking to you is like pulling teeth.”

Brad grins. “It was probably Polish.”

Rory picks at his food, staring at Brad curiously. “Why did you call me?”

“Usually people are impressed that I speak Polish.”

Rory shrugs. “I’m easily bored. Why did you ask me for a second date?”

“Does last time count as a first date?”

“You made me pancakes.”

Brad sighs, leaning back. He’s not looking at Rory’s chest. Eyes up. Eyes on his face. Fuck, he’s handsome.

“What do you want, Brad?”

“I…”

“I don’t care what you want,” Rory clarifies, shrugging. “I just want to know.”

Brad pauses. Rory’s eyes are dark, attentive. The light behind him casts a halo around his crown of curls. Brad sucks in a breath.

“Sex.”

“Okay.” Rory smiles again, and Brad wants to kiss him so much. He wants to climb into his lap, feel the soft fabric of his skirt, slide his hands underneath Rory’s sweater. Of course he wants that. But he also wants…

He shakes his head. “Yeah. Just sex.”

Rory glances down, at the meal in front of him, at Brad’s too-pressed shirt, at the expensive bottle opened between them. He studies Brad carefully, making him feel pinned down. Eventually, he nods.

“Okay, Brad Bakshi. Just sex.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brad and Rory have moved in together. They're pissed at each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep forgetting to say this, but thank you so much to my friend bailyn! she's a huge part of the bradrory universe and i love her so much

-2014-

“Moving in with you was a fucking mistake!”

“Jesus Christ, Rory it’s not a big deal—“

“Yes it is! You think you can just command me to do whatever you want and I’ll—“

“This is my house!”

Rory crosses his arms, and Brad steels himself. He hates how scary Rory can be. “Oh what am I, a fucking house guest now? Am I not paying rent? Are you my sugar daddy all of a sudden?”

“Don’t be a dick—“

“One week, Brad! It took you one week before you became a fucking control freak—“

“Fuck you.”

Brad feels like he’s gonna cry. He hates feeling powerless, feeling angry. He hates that Rory can do this to him.

Rory shakes his head. “Fine. I’m going to bed. Unless you wanna ban me from there, too.”

He disappears up the stairs, and Brad collapses onto the couch. God, he can be a dick when he wants to be.

It wasn’t even fair. That wasn’t even fair— he hadn’t banned Rory from shit. He just suggested it would be better if Rory didn’t go to the grocery store alone next time. He was nice about it. He was just trying to help.

And Rory’s left him alone, he’s left Brad alone to be angry and to choke back the tears itching at his eyes, and no, no, he’s not allowed to cry. He’s not allowed to cry. He won’t let Rory make him cry.

Suck a fucking dick.

———

“Morning!”

Rory turns to glance at Brad. He’s fully dressed, which is an anomaly before 9am. There’s something etched deep in his face. He doesn’t say a word.

“I made pancakes! Plain and gross like you like them.”

Rory sighs and shakes his head. For a second, Brad thinks he’s coming to hug him, but he moves past him and toward the coffee machine.

Brad clears his throat awkwardly, watching Rory start the coffee. “So I was thinking—“

“I don’t want to talk to you, Brad.”

“What do you mean?” Brad laughs, moving toward Rory, reaching out. Rory shrugs him off immediately, gaze on the floor.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

Brad tilts his head. “I don’t understand.”

Rory’s voice is low and dangerous. “Listen to me very carefully, Brad. You tried to control me. You told me what I am and am not allowed to keep in this house. That’s not okay.”

Brad is silent.

“Do you understand that that’s not okay?”

Brad wants to say something. He’s going to say something.

He waited too long.

Rory scoffs. “I’m going to work.” He turns away, moves toward the door.

“What about your coffee?”

That was the wrong thing to say. The door slams shut. Brad is alone.

———

The evening is quiet.

Rory comes home from work before Brad does. Brad finds him on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, watching TV. Brad sets down his bag, stands across the living room from his boyfriend.

“Animal Planet?”

“Yeah,” Rory says.

“You hate Animal Planet.”

“You don’t.”

Brad smiles a little, almost unsure if he’s allowed to. Rory sighs heavily, scooting over on the couch. “Come here.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“I won’t.”

They watch TV in silence. Sometimes, Brad can see Rory out of the corner of his eye, looking right at him. He feels heavy next to him, like a weight deep inside him that won’t let go.

Before long, Rory stands.

“You going to bed?”

Rory nods on his way out, pulling the blanket over his head as if it were a hoodie. Brad stays in front of the TV, his brain full of cotton. He wished he knew what to do.

Eventually, he drags himself upstairs. He gets into his pajamas, climbs into bed next to Rory— asleep, turned away from him.

Brad reaches over to turn off the light on the bedside table. It feels so wrong to go to sleep like this for a second night in a row, but Rory’s asleep, and Brad doesn’t know what—

“I can’t live here if it’s just going to be your house.”

“Rory—“

Rory turns over, his gaze immediately shutting Brad up. “You don’t get to leverage that power over me.”

Brad nods, keeping his mouth shut.

“I wanted to move in with you because I like you. I like that we’re mean to each other, and I like that you’re fucking insane. But I need to be my own person. You’re not allowed to control me. Ever.”

“Okay,” Brad whispers.

“Okay?”

“No, that was— I mean—“ Brad splutters, digging his palms into his face. “I meant, I’m sorry.”

“That was really moving, Brad.”

“Fuck you.”

Rory scoffs, starts to turn over again. “Goodnight.”

“Wait, wait, no.” Brad grabs Rory’s arm, stopping him. “Please just hold on a minute. I’m trying.”

Rory gives halfway, electing to lay on his back. He stares at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I… this is new for me. You kinda… punched my life in the face. In a good way. And I don’t know what to do about that.”

Rory blinks, huffs out a quiet breath.

“I don’t want to lose you. But… I’m not used to this. I’ll work on not being an asshole. I promise.”

Rory turns back to face Brad, propped up on an elbow. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“Say you’re sorry again.”

“I’m sorry.”

Rory stares at Brad for a long moment, taking him in. Brad tries a smile, and it breaks him. Rory snorts out a laugh, pushing at his chest. “God, you’re unfair. Come here.”

Brad scoots toward his boyfriend, and they fit into each other’s arms, Rory’s head pillowed on Brad’s chest.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Bakshi.”

Brad kisses the top of Rory’s head.

“And never say you won’t be an asshole again. That broke my damn heart.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brad was never going to get married.

-2016-

Brad’s brain hums softly, a sleepy satisfaction buzzing through his body. He sips his tea slowly, enjoying the comfortable silence with his boyfriend. Rory’s poking at his cereal, long-since soggy and unappetizing. His eyes are still puffy from sleep, and his beard is flattened on the side he slept on. He’s the most beautiful thing Brad’s ever seen.

Rory sets his spoon down, resting his chin on his fists. “When you propose to me, you’d better not do something stupid like a flash mob.”

Brad splutters, coughing out his tea, eyes watering. “Sorry, when I fucking WHAT?”

“I’m gonna go shower,” Rory says amiably. Brad gapes helplessly as he stands, empties his bowl into the sink, and moves to leave the kitchen.

Brad blinks and clears his throat. “Uh, Rory?”

“Love you!”

Rory’s footsteps disappear up the stairs, and Brad is left frozen in his seat. How long has Rory been thinking about marriage? Why did he assume Brad wanted to marry him? And more importantly, how did he know that he was right?

This is fucked up. This is so fucked up. Brad never wanted to get married. No, he was going to hoard wealth and live alone and maybe one day begrudgingly take in three estranged nephews. Rory must have poisoned his brain, because he shouldn’t be thinking about this. He shouldn’t be okay with this. His face shouldn’t be getting hot at the thought of marrying someone. Marrying Rory.

And yeah, there’s a part of him that wants to run away. Or wants to bolt upstairs and rip the shower curtain open and scream at Rory and demand to know, “Hey man, what the fuck?”

But Rory…

There’s gray in his beard.

It’s basically nothing, just a few hairs down the center of his chin, but he’d whined for days when he found them. Brad spent a lot of time convincing him not to get rid of them.

And the gray doesn’t matter, not really, but Brad wants… he wants to see it get grayer, and he really wants to spend a lot more time convincing Rory not to shave.

Shit.

———

Rory was sore after work, so he drew a bath for himself. This quickly became a bath for both of them, after Brad whined about Rory hogging the bathroom. So now he holds Brad in the fizz and foam, both of them comfortably silent.

“Hey, Bakshi?”

Brad keeps his eyes closed and hums. “I told you you’re not allowed to make fun of how far I have to fold my legs to fit in the tub.”

“No, it’s…” Rory’s voice is strangely quiet. “Are you… are you going to marry me?”

Brad shifts to look at Rory, reaches up out of the water to cup his face. “Yes.” He sounds confident, steady. It surprises him. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” He pauses. Leans into Brad’s touch. “Are you scared?”

“Yeah.”

“Of what?”

“Marriage. Life. You. Is that okay?”

Rory grins and presses his forehead to Brad’s. His voice is gentle and low, sending warmth through Brad’s chest. “I dread the day you’re no longer scared of me.”

Brad rubs his thumb over Rory’s beard, leaning further in. Rory meets his lips eagerly, only breaking away when Brad tries and fails to adjust his gangly legs.

Rory laughs, then seeks out eye contact. “You’re proposing, or I leave you.”

“Promise?”

Rory bites his shoulder, and Brad laughs in surprise.

———

Brad shifts his weight, bouncing a little on his heels. He turns over the box in his hands, heart pounding. It’s been a month since he bought the ring, and it’s taken him this long to get up the nerve to actually go through with it.

He tries to focus on taking deep breaths, but the morning sun is coming in weird and making the light off his sweater look unnatural, and that’ll set the whole mood off. Maybe he should change. Again.

There’s a soft creak from upstairs and Brad perks up, smoothing down his clothing. He tries to suppress his grin. Soft footfalls press down the stairs, closer and closer, until Rory appears around the corner. He’s heavy with sleep, wearing one of Brad’s shirts and an old pair of boxers. He’s blinking away the exhaustion, eyes low. Brad waits quietly as Rory registers his presence, freezing in place.

Exhaustion is replaced with slight panic in Rory’s face. “Hi. You’re— you look nice.”

Brad grins, and sinks down to one knee. “Hey, Rory.”

Rory’s face twists— he knows what’s happening. He takes a deep breath, already holding back tears. “Please tell me you’re about to suck my dick right now,” he whispers.

“Nope,” Brad laughs softly. He pops the ring box open.

Rory makes a sound that could be either a laugh or a sob. “Brad Bakshi, you are not allowed to propose to me in my underwear.”

“I had to catch you off guard. Are you okay?”

Rory nods rapidly. “Yeah,” he says, grinning. “Do your dumb little speech or whatever.”

Jesus Christ, he’s in love.

“Okay. I… I spent the first few months insisting that I only wanted sex. And I think you knew I was lying, before I did. And you let me. You have always been patient with me. You let me come to terms with the fact that I love you.”

Brad takes a shaky breath. Rory nods a little, encouraging him.

“You scare the shit out of me. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you so much, Rory. Will you—“

He’s cut off by Rory launching toward him, slamming their lips together. It’s sloppy and excited, and Rory seriously misjudged the velocity, because his teeth knock directly into Brad’s lip. Brad cries out in pain, and Rory backs off immediately, cupping his face to assess the damage.

“I’m sorry!” Rory cries, looking to see where Brad got hurt. “Are you okay? I just got excited, I’m sorry—“

Brad laughs, pressing a quick kiss to Rory’s lips. “I’m okay, I’m okay! So, yes?”

“Yes!” Rory yells. “Yes, Brad, fuck yes I’ll marry you!”

Brad fumbles with the ring and takes Rory’s hand. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too.”

Brad slips the ring on his fiancé’s finger.

“And you’re a monster for not even letting me shower first.”

———

Brad squeezes Rory’s hand, and feels him nuzzle his face further into his neck. They’re waiting for the officiant to look over their paperwork, and yeah, they’ve waited two months since getting engaged, but these few minutes feel longer than those sixty days had.

“I love you,” Rory whispers, and Brad hums in agreement.

The officiant looks up and raises her eyebrows. “Do you have a witness?”

Rory lifts his head to look at Brad. They have a short, silent conversation, before turning back to the officiant. “Hold on.”

Rory tugs Brad back out through the courthouse, alternately laughing and kissing as they run. They push the doors open, looking around wildly. The area is barren, save for a young man— woman?— neither?— smoking a cigarette. Brad glances at Rory, and he nods.

Brad lets his fiancé pull him over to the smoker. They glance over, looking Brad and Rory up and down.

“We’re getting married in five minutes and we need a witness do you wanna watch us get married?”

They sigh, flick their cigarette on the ground and stomp on it. “Yeah, okay.”

They sprint back into the courthouse, talking fast to their new friend. They skid over to the officiant’s desk, overjoyed. “This is Monty they’re our witness!”

“Hi,” Monty says.

“Hi,” the officiant replies, raising an eyebrow. “Are you two ready?”

Brad grabs Rory’s hand and squeezes once. Rory breaks out into a grin. “Yeah, we’re ready.”

The officiant stands, moves around her desk. “Do you have vows?”

Rory nods. “I wanna go first.”

“Okay,” Brad whispers. He brings Rory’s hand to his lips. Monty hops up to sit on the officiant’s desk.

Rory grins, tries to suppress it. “When I met you, you were weird and sad and suppressed. And… you spent a lot of time trying to convince me that you were only using me for my amazing body.”

Brad laughs, a familiar feeling bubbling in his chest. “Dumbass.”

“Shh. There was this moment, one morning, when you were asleep. And I was getting ready to go, but you reached out and mumbled my name. And you asked me to stay.” Rory rubs his thumb over Brad’s. “…And I did. And I will. I love you, Bakshi. I want to stay.”

“Rory…”

“Mm.”

“Shut up. It’s my turn.” Brad takes a shaky breath. “After we moved in together, I kind of panicked. I realized that I was giving up a lot of control, and it scared me. And you called me out on my bullshit.”

“Yeah, I did.”

Brad laughs, and realizes he’s starting to cry. “I’m not scared of not having control with you, because I know that I can trust you. You make me a better man. In… your own way. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Brad doesn’t hear the officiant asking the questions. All he can focus on is his fiancé, smiling, squeezing his hand, saying, “I do.”

“I do,” Brad repeats.

They move toward each other, hands tangling in hair, lips soft. Their kiss is joyful and deep, only broken when they remember they need air. 

“Hey,” Rory says, wiping away Brad’s tears. “We’re married.”

“Yeah, we’re married,” Brad laughs.

They sign the marriage license and wait for Monty to do the same. “Congratulations,” the officiant says when they’re done.

“Yeah, congratulations, weirdos,” Monty says, grinning. “That was weirdly cute.”

Brad kisses Rory’s forehead. “Thanks. You should come over for dinner sometime, we would love to have you.”

“Except not now, we’re gonna go home and have sex.”


End file.
